Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

Gohan… please… don't die…

Even against the bulk of all that had happened, among the excited and confused outbursts, the strange and invading presence of the crowd that buzzed around him, the newness of it all—of being dead—Piccolo could not stop thinking about the words that he had uttered to Son Gohan just before he had succumbed. And had he cried? Had he really cried in front of that child? The Namekian snorted and pushed the turbulent memory from his thoughts, and for the first time he made an effort to take careful notice of his surroundings.

The entrance to Enma Daiou's court was typically a frantic and frenzied place—for it was where all the souls of the dead ended up, to be judged—but at this moment things seemed to teeter dangerously on the edge of a chaotic abyss, the atmosphere even more disturbed than was usual. And no wonder: among the long line of pretty puffy spirits, spirits shoving and pushing one another for place, for rank, stood the foursome of Z-Senshi who had fallen in the battle against the Saiyans—the bandit Yamcha, the Crane practitioners Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu, and, looking the most displeased by the scene, the Demon King Piccolo, who had moments earlier given his life to save that of a child.

He would have spat at that, had there not been a large sign hanging nearby shoving a loud red list of rules into the face of every passerby, one of them forcefully proclaiming "NO SPITTING".

Yamcha let out a low whistle, glancing around with a sidewinder smile. "So this is heaven, is it? It's not really as spectacular as I'd hoped."

Tenshinhan gave the rogue a sidelong look. "Not heaven yet. We still need to be judged…" The triclops pointed in the direction of a large building directly ahead of them, its gargantuan set of doors swung open. All four of them could get more than an eyeful of the massive figure seated inside (at a massive desk with massive chair), his almost devilish appearance crowning the already intimidating nature of his work: to mete out souls to either heaven or hell based on their deeds in life.

"Yai! By him?!" Yamcha's cool smile turned into an awkward sort of alarm.

"Yup. You'd better watch out where he puts you," Tenshinhan retorted, sharing a smile with his diminutive friend Chiaoutzu. "What with all of the things you've stolen."

"Hey, shut up. I died protecting the Earth! There oughta be some sort of VIP room for people who do that." But the others didn't hear him, because the line was moving.

Well, that isn't precisely true. Piccolo heard everything that was said, and his thoughts began to shift their focus from his immediate past to his immediate future. He remained aloof from the others, but moved slowly and rather obediently among the herd of souls, so in a way he was still going with them. As they approached the main chamber of the court, he found himself eyeing Enma Daiou and housing some rather dangerous thoughts.

Even if he does try to send me to hell, I can probably take him… yeah. He's big, but I doubt he's all that powerful. He wouldn't need his frightening appearance if he was in possession of real power.

Piccolo's thoughts assured him, but didn't really persuade him. Somewhere deep in his chest, or perhaps it was his abdomen, he could sense a small tight knot of fear, a knot growing more prevalent with each step they took toward the courtroom. It took Enma only moments to judge each soul; he would look at it, glancing back and forth from the spirit in question to the pages of a large book left always open on his desktop, and in moments he would wave his hand and send it on its way: either onward to a glorious afterlife in heaven or down to hell, just below the thick yellow clouds that seemed to act as a pleasant-looking sort of deception concerning the nature of the fate of those wicked deceased.

It was because he knew he wouldn't be wished back. His link with Kami had already informed him that Son had defeated the Saiyans and was recuperating on Earth. That meant that before too long they would summon the dragon and wish everyone back who had died. Everyone, of course, excepting him. Piccolo felt himself grow bitter within—here he had done more against the Saiyans than any one of those three, here he had given his life to save that of Goku's only son, and he was going to be left to rot in hell for the rest of time because his fate happened to be in the hands of the friends of his enemy. What a cursed existence was his.

He felt himself snap back to awareness as a rather booming voice addressed the four of them. They now stood in Enma's courtroom, all but naked on the vast floor in front of the large desk, awaiting judgment. All around them horned blue assistants darted to and fro, busying themselves with all of the mundane tasks of keeping the cosmic courtroom from falling into disarray. And before them sat Enma, ferocious in his sense of righteousness, although his first words carried with them the slightly calming lilt of recognition.

"Ahh yes. The four warriors who died in the battle to protect the planet Earth… Yamcha, Tenshinhan, Chiaoutzu, and…" His eyes stopped on Piccolo and narrowed slightly. "Piccolo. Usually demons skip right past this part of their journey and end up straight in hell. But perhaps Kami-sama was right about you."

Piccolo panicked immediately. Great. If Kami's in with his guy, I have no chance of ever again seeing the light of day. He became more angry with himself. If only I hadn't thrown myself in front of that stupid kid. Look where it's gotten me.

Enma went on.

"I will judge you one by one, according to your deeds."

Yamcha gulped audibly, and Piccolo felt himself beginning to sweat.

"Yamcha—for many years you led a life of crime, stealing for your own personal benefit. You have lied, cheated, and lusted after women. How do you plead?"

"Er… I—I only stole from the rich! And I only lusted after ugly women! Dogs!" Yamcha made a face, but it disappeared at the hard glare he received from Enma. He fell into a muted state.

After a thunderous silence, Enma spoke. "You are guilty of those things, no ifs, ands, or buts. But… you laid down your life for the sake of the innocent people of Earth, and for that you will be allowed passage to a most divine place indeed."

The others could see the slow uptake and eventual party inside Yamcha's head, but before he had time to proclaim his joy, Enma moved on.

"Tenshinhan… Chiaoutzu. For quite some time the two of you served an underhanded master and even carried out his dirty work. But like Yamcha, you both gave your lives to protect your planet and the people on it, and for that I grant you similar passage, to hone your skills beneath the tutelage of a wondrous God."

Tenshinhan bowed to Enma with respect, and Chiaoutzu followed suit.

Finally, Enma settled his stern gaze on Piccolo's tall, lithe figure, the demon hanging somewhere near the back of the group.

"Piccolo… son of the Demon King. Or perhaps you are simply Daimao reincarnated. Since your creation you have longed for destruction, for power; you have pined to take the Earth as your own."

Oh brother.

The green face cringed slightly, eyes narrowing with disdain toward Enma. He could feel the others looking at him, but he did not grant them the honor of returning their naïve brand of gawking stupidity. Yeah, that was him, if one could believe in such simplicities. He felt an odd mixture of pride and resentment brewing within his chest. He was the Demon King…

Just sentence me already.

"For your crimes I would like to send you straight to hell and never see you again."

Fine, do it. Stop toying with me!

"But… I cannot."

What?

"You sacrificed yourself to save an innocent child. A noble act… one might even call it an act of love."

Piccolo felt his cheeks burn. He glared at Enma. He hated him for bringing that up, for belittling the status that he had just endowed upon him moments earlier. Demons didn't love. He wanted to scream at the others to stop looking at him, but he felt that he could not speak in the face of it all.

"For that I will grant you the same fate as these three, as reluctant as I am to actually spare you. Kami insists you've changed. We shall see." He went on. "You will all four be allowed the arduous journey over the Serpent Road, to the planet of the North Kaio, in order to receive training from him. I suspect in a year's time or so you will probably be wished back to life. But that is not my concern. Now, go."

Enma said nothing more, and after a moment's deliberation the four of them shuffled toward an almost normal-sized opening at the back of the room behind Enma, each warrior moving slowly and lightly beneath a wave of cautious optimism. No one voiced his joy at being spared an eternity in hell, no one gave expression to his anticipation at the chance of being able to train beneath a God—the same God under which Son Goku had become so dazzlingly strong.

Piccolo did not know what to feel. He wanted to call it relief, but it was a strained sort of relief, caught within a net of certain convictions the likes of which he did not know whether to carry with him or discard on the way to the end of Serpent Road.

And soon the four of them stood before the winding, endless, fearsome stone pathway, their eyes following its dizzy trek into the clouds until they could see it no longer.

So that's chapter 1. Please read/review. I'll try to get chapter 2 up soon (depending on the tone of reviews...).